"We want to eradicate these people from history and leave nothing behind. And you'll be doing it. You'll be interviewing all active party members, from highest to lowest levels. By that I mean people who were part of the formal Party bureaucracy, not just people who signed up because they were required to do so. We have full bio on all active members, from the party's own records. We have already categorized them all, and ruled on who is to be executed. Upper level personnel will have a red spot on the upper right of their bio sheet. Your task is to confirm the person seated before you is the person on the sheet, ensure the red spot decision is correct, and if so, send him through the door to his right. That leads to a narrow corridor between the rooms where he will be guided to his fate. If there is no red spot or if you confirm it’s an error, or there are reasons to reconsider, send him through the door to his left, with an explanation on his sheet. That door leads to another narrow corridor that is for the living. And this is very important: We're looking for people to run the new government. If you have a party member with no red spot, who is not brainwashed, who appears to be intelligent and flexible and concerned about the future of his people and his nation, highlight him and recommend further discussions. We need intelligent, clear-thinking people for the new government. You'll be doing us and the people of Angaroth a great favor if you can come up with good candidates for Angaroth's new government.
"All right, everybody take one of the booklets on that table and bring it with you up to the second floor. Look for the room with the number on it that corresponds to the number on the booklet. That's going to be your home for awhile, so make yourself comfortable. I'll be checking on you all before we start sending in the detainees. Good luck!"
Δ
"Good morning, sir!" As I entered my assigned office, Room 223, I was greeted by a Legion trooper in an A-vest, armed with a KXV handgun. It was the same model they had issued to Arie and me.
"Morning, trooper," I replied. He was enlisted, a blond Outworlder, and seemed very young. "Have you done this job before?"
"Yes sir." He smiled. "I'm your assistant, Starside. I'll get you whatever you need. And I'll handle the detainees if they get nasty."
"Oh, I should be able to handle them, trooper. Tell me – I just got here. I've never fired a KXV before. Is the weapon any good?"
"Yes sir! It's an excellent weapon. Fires every time, never jams. Just click to X or vac and pull the trigger. SOP is carry set to vac."
"Glad to hear it." Despite all my Legion training and service I had never been required to carry a handgun. But I was now.
"Prophet!" It was Arie, stepping in the door. He had the room next to mine. "Have you read this booklet?"
"Not yet, Arie. What's up?"
"They gave me an assistant – some kid named Rampage."
"Yeah, me too. So what?"
"Well it’s just that – man, I'm not an executioner!"
"Well, you are now."
"But – I don't want to do this type of work. I'd rather be back on the Tough Love."
"Come on, Arie. You said you were sick of being prodded and poked and brainscanned. You jumped at the chance to leave, so quit whining."
"Man!"
"Look at it this way, Arie. How many Legion and Commune troopers died on Vulcan?"
"I don’t know."
"A hell of a lot, that's how many. And what were these party swine doing at that time? Hiding under their desks here in Angaroth, right? And they gave the orders! They deserve to die!"
"You really are a hard-ass."
"Yeah. I guess I am."
"Is everything all right?" Commander Crash had just appeared, standing in my doorway.
"Just fine, sir," I answered.
"Good. We'll be sending the detainees in soon. There's no need to be polite with them. And I wish to emphasize speed. Spend no more than five marks on each subject. Oh, maybe take a bit longer with the first few, just to get a grip on it, but after that no more than five marks. Faster if you can do it. Now you'll see a field brainscan unit hanging on the wall there. I will not expect you to use that except for highly unusual cases requiring brainscan confirmation. We just don't have time for brainscans. Everybody's status is pretty much determined already. All right?"
"Yes sir! I'm looking forward to it, sir!"
"Well, good. All right, carry on."
Δ
The first detainee that Starside escorted into my office was a large, heavy-set male with a short haircut, clad in scruffy civilian clothes. His wrists were secured in front of him as he settled into the chair before my desk. I picked up his plastic d-folder from my overflowing in tray and looked it over. There was a red dot top right. Name Prester J Asgroth. Party Rank Regional Leader, Military Rank Commodore. I took a closer look at him. He stared back at me. He appeared to be well-fed, and gaining weight. Aging? Were these people mortals? Nobody had told me.
"You Asgroth?" I asked.
"I am." His tone was neutral.
"Commodore. You were in the Stellar Fleet?"
"I was. I was Political Advisor for the Second Fleet."
"Give me one good reason why you should not be executed for war crimes."
"I committed no war crimes."
"You are a leading member of the Stellar Revolutionary Union Party – right?"
"Correct."
"Any other reasons?"
"I always did my best to serve and protect the people."
I looked over his file some more.
"You had secret bank accounts in Asumara and Galgos," I said.
"That was for my family. A man should take steps to protect his family."
"Sixteen million Gulf Credits. Where did the money come from?"
"It is my life savings. For my family."
"Go out that door there." I gestured to the door to his right. Starside opened it, showed him through and closed it.
"How'd I do?" I asked.
"Excellent, sir! He deserves it."
I signed my initials by the red dot and tossed the file into the out box. Die, you bastard! Committed no war crimes, huh? You authorized uncounted war crimes. You killed thousands. Sitting at your desk, safe and fat. Counting your loot.
Δ
I went through several more red dotters. I had no problem sending them though the door to their right. And I had no problem signing my initials by the red dot. These were the real criminals. The Commune troopers we faced had no choice. They had to do what they were told. But these political creeps were sending them to their deaths, and enriching themselves at the expense of the people of Angaroth. Sixteen million credits!
"You're Gramin?" I asked.
"Yes sir." He was rail-thin, with thinning hair – all signs of mortality. They were mortals – in this day and age. Good Lord. Let's see – Name Medwyn Gramin. Party Rank Regional Inspector, Military Rank Commander. A red dot top right.
"You were a leading member of the Stellar Revolutionary Union Party – right?"
"That’s right."
"And your mission was to oppress the people, to smash any perceived opposition, kill any traitors, send the army off to fight for you and tax anything that moved until your bank accounts were full. Right?"
"I've never heard it expressed quite that way but yes, that's an accurate description of what most of my colleagues were doing, yes."
"But you weren't doing that."
"No. I was not."
"Why not?"
"I was a member of the resistance."
"I heard there was no resistance. And my sources are pretty good."
"No resistance was ever discovered because there was no organized resistance. If anyone tried to organize any anti-government or anti-party activity, the authorities would instantly find out."
"How did they do that?"
"They let the conspirators tell them. It's like this. Under the Pegal Stelcom everyone knew the ground rules. Trust nobody. And if you trust nobody, there will be no organized resistance. You see, if your best friend mak
es an anti-regime comment or proposal – anything at all – you have to denounce him. If you fail to denounce him, you may be arrested or executed. Could be he has been directed to approach you by the regime and make that comment and the objective is to see whether or not you report it – whether or not you can be trusted."
"So how can you claim to be a member of the resistance if there is no organized resistance?"
"You can resist as an individual. If you are very, very careful. And know exactly what you are doing. About the time we made the switch to the United Commune, there was a tremendous political purge. Hundreds, then thousands were denounced, tortured and arrested. Each detainee, under torture, named names – and it soon blew up completely out of control. Somebody would be denounced and that's all it took, if they say you committed thought crime there is no proof necessary. You are tortured for names of other conspirators or others who think as you do. You give them names of people you dislike, and they are arrested, and they give out more names. Pretty soon the entire party structure and government is being ripped apart by these accusations. The torturers are arrested while torturing detainees because other detainees have named them as thought criminals. Finally everybody realized it was all a fantasy and stopped it. So the insanity slowed down a bit. And that gave me an opportunity."
"To do what?"
"To resist. To do what little I could do to save innocent lives without drawing suspicion to myself."
"And how did you do that?"
"The party records everything. And there are many regulations, which must be followed. If you can cite a regulation to justify your actions, nobody will dare oppose you. Unless you overdo it. I worked right in this building. I made life and death decisions for people headed to execution – just as you do."
"And you resisted? Why did you do that?"
"Because I despised the regime and wanted to destroy it. I couldn't do that but what I could do was save the lives of people who I knew were also anti-regime. I had to be selective but I had quite a few anti-regime people to choose from. I sure didn’t keep notes but I must have saved fifty or more lives. Of course, I sent many others to their deaths. But those fifty are alive today because of my actions."
"And how was that done?"
"If you are facing execution and confess the error of your ways and promise to repent and ask for instruction from the party on how to be a good citizen, the request has to be granted. The course lasts for two months and if you pass it, your death sentence is commuted."
"Really."
"Really. I mentioned that to – some of them – as an option. So you see, I was resisting. Individually. I don’t know if there was any other resistance; maybe I was the only person on the planet resisting, but I don't think I was. I think there were plenty of other people, doing similar things. Baby steps for justice. I have faith in our people – if they can only get out of the yoke of oppression. I'm glad you folks are here. Even if you're going to execute me. I hope it will lead to a new dawn for Angaroth."
I looked through his folder. No foreign bank accounts. Practically nothing in one local account.
"Starside, get that brainscan on him."
"Yes sir."
When it was ready I activated the little desk unit and the d-screen came to life.
"Were you lying to me about saving fifty people from execution?" I asked.
"I was not lying. I can’t be sure of the numbers – but it was at least fifty."
No Deception Indicated, the brainscan read in green.
"How'd you like to have a part in building a new government for Angaroth?" I asked.
Chapter 20
Into the Future
This is the life," Arie remarked. Phoenix City at night was not bad, if you were a member of the Occupation forces. We were up on the Palace Hostel's roof terrace by the aircar pad. The hostel had a very nice restaurant set up there for the government elite, but the customers now were Legion soldiers, and no locals were in sight.
I took a sip of lime sour crush, savoring that tangy taste, swirling the ice chips around in my mouth. Arie and I were at the guardrails, looking out over the city. It was a peaceful velvet night, no stars, just a great hush and the musky scent of a nearby river that ran through the town. Phoenix was mostly blacked out as we had hit all power plants when we were enforcing the blockade, and they had yet to be rebuilt. Little islands of pale yellow lights announced the location of occupation bases and offices. The starport glowed on the horizon. We had brought our own power, but were not sharing it. Tiny specks of light were winking in the dark all over town – candles.
The streets were empty. The city was quiet. Curfew. Waiting for the future. Well, we were going to fix that. We were going to hand them the outline of a government that would work. Then we were going to leave, and the future was going to be in their hands.
"Think these clowns will get it together?" Arie asked. He had a frosty beer in hand.
"I don't know," I said. "But Crash told me we went over an endless, very detailed list of alleged patriots that was compiled by the former Commune brain police. They should know. We contacted everybody on that list that was still alive, and who claimed to be interested in building a new government. They're fighting it out in the former rubber-stamp legislative assembly. We've given them free access to all the brain police's records. It also lists all their secret sources – about half the population. But we're letting them sort that out. They can hardly believe it, that they are being given all this freedom to form a provisional government."
"But we're advising them, aren't we?"
"Of course. We've given them deadlines to draft the constitution and set up the provisional government with a firm date for national elections, but we'll be long gone by the time the elections come around – if they do."
"I guess we should wish them well."
"Sure we should. One of my red dotters is working on this very hard. I told you about him. He contacted all the people whose lives he saved, and they're uniting. Looks like it may become a major political party. From what he told me, they are all passionately determined to build a strong government of patriots who will never again accept slavery, of any kind, and will never again bow down to tyranny."
"I'd rather be helping them than killing them," Arie confessed.
"What we're doing is important, Arie. These people – the red dotters – are failed humans. They built a corrupt totalitarian state, a slave state, and allied themselves with the Demons and the Darks, and if we leave them alive, they'll do it again."
"I don't doubt it."
"Then let's take them right out of history. Kill them all. Like you fight a disease. Just exterminate them. The same way you eradicate an especially horrible infectious disease. Until it doesn’t exist anymore."
"Your faith is inspiring." Arie sighed, with a faint smile.
"Yeah. Let's get something to eat."
Δ
The following day I was minding my own business, calmly interrogating an interesting non-red dotter, when a shot rang out. It was so loud it almost deafened me. It was x! I leaped to my feet, pulling out my KXV and snapping it to x while following an alarmed Starside to Arie's office right next door. Arie was standing over his desk, KXV in hand. His enlisted assistant was standing against the wall, stunned. Arie's detainee was sprawled on the deck, his head blown off, blood spouting out of his neck, the walls splattered with blood and specks of shrapnel.
"What happened?" It was Crash, poised in the doorway with his weapon drawn.
"Nothing," Arie replied calmly, placing his KXV on his desk. "I shot him. He said I was a clerk, compiling a list of the dead, sending him away to some place where somebody else would execute him, some nameless thug. He said I was a little coward and didn't have the balls to kill him myself. So I killed him."
"I see," Crash said. "Rampage, drag the body into the corridor, then call for a clean-up crew. Carry on." Crash holstered his weapon and walked away. Arie's assistant dragged the body out and made th
e call.
"You all right, Arie?" I asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"
"Oh – nothing. Uh, see you later."
"Right."
Aries' assistant Rampage stood in the doorway over the body, looking down the corridor to where the next group of detainees was waiting. "Next!" he called out.
Δ
My tacmod pinged as Arie and I were having breakfast in the great hall of our palatial hostel. The restaurant was crowded with Legion and Fleetcom and random civilian personnel.
"It's from the Prof! A star tracer!" I exclaimed. Arie put down his dox as I set the device up so that we could both read the little d-screen. Star tracers used wormholes to travel around the galaxy, so they were a lot slower than Q-links, which were instantaneous. But Q-links were highly classified and not for personal use. We had not heard from anyone since arriving to Angaroth, so this was an unusual event. My heart started pounding. Why would the Prof contact us?
UNCLASS PERS ST 1230036127 – CS STARGIRL TO ZONE 3 ANGAROTH PHOENIX LEGION PERS PROPHET 7789732039 OR NITRO 7789732018. PERSONAL MESSAGE FROM PROFESSOR 6045889580.
Hello Prophet and Nitro. My warmest greetings to you. I apologize for not updating you earlier on developments. Our Delta brothers and sisters have been scattered widely as you know but nothing can keep us separated for long, can it? I know I speak for all Delta as I congratulate both of you on your miraculous recoveries and rehabilitation.
At present I am returning home to Quaba on the CS Stargirl. I am accompanied by Saka, Ice and Blackie. Saka and Ice are fine and Blackie has recovered from his wounds. Prophet, Nitro, we all pray for your full recovery every day and we thank God for giving you both back to us.
Here are more current deployments: Doggie, Scout and Smiley are with the B's. Although I have no recent news of them, I have the strongest confidence in our Bright friends and allies and their medical care is the best in the galaxy so I'm sure they will be rejoining us when events permit it. Honeyhair and Blondie remain on Vulcan carrying on with their medical duties. I'm sure we all agree they belong there until relieved. They are both patriots and heroes – just like their husbands.
Prophet and the Blood March (Prophet of ConFree) Page 43